Little City Girl in a Big City World
by Tipping Point
Summary: Lindsay never liked Tuesdays. And as she stands in the middle of Times Square, she discovers a new fondness for Wednesdays. Lindsay reflects on NY and her first day of work. Prequel to IMAGINE Series
1. Tuesday

**Author's Note**: My first story ever, and I'm glad to have lost my proverbial virginity to a D/L story. It was a fantastic ship to be sailing until some recent events...let us just hope everyone survives relatively unscathed. And pray that TPTB get their heads screwed on straight before this season is over.

So this is theoretically the first of many stories I plan to write. Hopefully, there will be many more stories to follow but Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither is my collection of stories. I hope you enjoy this and feel inclined to come back for more! This takes place before Lindsay's first day of work. The second chapter will be up in a day or two :)

I may have taken some liberties with geographical locations, so please forgive me. Also, I have decided God has been reincarnated as Google. It is the most amazing thing on earth. Praise Google.

**Disclaimer**: If you seriously think I own any of this, you should go get your head checked out. But just for clarification: Nothing that came from CSI: NY is mine.

**Spoilers**: Brief references to _Zoo York_

**Summary**: Lindsay never liked Tuesdays. And as she stands in the middle of Times Square after her first day at work, she discovers a new fondness for Wednesdays.

**Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. If you happen to find the kindness in your heart and would like to beta my stories, please feel free to PM me. Thanks!**

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Lindsay Ann Monroe was leaving Bozeman.

It was an early Tuesday morning. Lindsay was never a fan of Tuesdays because there was no logic behind having a Tuesday. It wasn't when all her favorite shows where on, like Thursday, or the beginning or ending of her week, like Monday and Friday. It wasn't the middle of the week, like Wednesday, or her weekends, like Saturday and Sunday. It was just _Tuesday_ and what did that mean? Nothing. But here she was, making something of her wild card day, and packing all her boxed-up necessities into her father's truck. Most of her furniture was going to be stored on her family's farm until she had a place of her own in Manhattan.

Until then, she was going to be bunking with Uncle Freddy.

It was surprisingly warm for an October morning in Bozeman. While Lindsay and her dad loaded up the truck bed with her luggage, her mother stood and watched from the passenger's seat in the cab of the Ford. The three of them didn't have much time to digest the news between the phone call and when she was expected to start at the crime lab in New York City. Fortunately, her supervisor was understanding when she had to suddenly hand in her two weeks. It was no secret at the Bozeman Crime Lab that Lindsay had put in an application to NYCL to work under the famous Mac Taylor and hand-in-hand with _the_ NYPD. She had received the phone call at a crime scene from Detective Taylor himself, and told her a position had just opened on his team and would love to have her as part of his crime-fighting machine.

Her mother watched teary-eyed from a distance as her husband and daughter carried down the numerous amounts of bags Lindsay was bringing with her. Lindsay caught sight of her mother in the truck and her heart wanted to break because her mother just looked so sad. It was hard for the two women to be parting ways, for she had never lived farther than ten minutes away from her family her entire life. Now she was going to be living 2,178 miles apart, give or take a few city blocks – not that she took the time to figure it out what the exact distance was, the night she got the news from Mac. It wasn't like she MapQuest it or anything weird like that. Because she wasn't obsessive or neurotic like that. Well, maybe sometimes.

Compared to the ten minutes that usually separated them, it was going to be almost thirty-three hours of driving, maybe even longer with the way her parents drove. It was a minimum seven hours of flying. Being this far away sent Lindsay into a frenzied panic and she thought knowing _exactly_ how far from home she was going to be was a calming concept in an odd sort of way.

Lindsay knew she would start crying at the airport right before she walked through security. She was trying to stay strong for her mom, who looked moments away from losing it and sobbing. Out of everyone she was leaving behind, Lindsay was going to miss her mother the most. Their standing Friday morning coffee date had been a ritual for years, especially during college when Lindsay always had late classes on Fridays. Lindsay was home for dinner at her parent's house as often as she could be. Her father's smoked ribs and coleslaw were staples in the Monroe home, and they were very popular among her older brothers. And her mom's apple pie recipe that had been in the family for generations was to absolutely die for. It had even won the Best Pie award at the annual county fair a few times.

With one last sweep of her apartment and going through her mental checklist a final time, she blew a kiss goodbye to her old home and hopped in the truck, wedged between her parents. The airport was only eight miles from Bozeman up in Belgrade. Montana was littered with small, homely airports. The three closest airports to Bozeman combined she assumed could almost be as big as JFK or LaGuardia. Just miniature airports filled with a dozen or so terminals, and you always knew someone who was working. Bozeman was like that – it was one of those small towns where everyone's noses are always bumping up against each others.

When it was time for Lindsay to head through the security check point, she finally cried. Her mother had not been able to hold the tears in all day but really lost it when Lindsay hugged her good bye. As happy as her mother was for her, she hated the idea of her one and only little girl heading off to the big bad city by herself. It was a daunting concept that in a city full of eight million people, her daughter wouldn't get lost in the shuffle. According to the last census Bozeman had done, the population was close to forty thousand people. In comparison to their simple town, New York was overwhelming in the amount of cultural diversity and historical significance. Everything that was anything resided somewhere in one of the burroughs. And she had heard some of the stories her brother-in-law Freddy told when he visited over the summer. It made Ann Monroe shiver.

The two women shared a very tearful goodbye. Lindsay finally had to tear herself away from her mother and have one last bear hug with her father. He pulled her in close, his large arms holding her close to his chest. Lindsay hiccuped from her sobs and her dad bent down and kissed the top of her head.

"Lindsay Bo Bindsay, you will always be my baby girl. You have busted your ass for this and I will not stand for you not getting on that plane in an hour. Go get your dreams honey, they're waiting for you."

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, sniffing just a little. Slowly, she picked up her carry-on bags and blew both her parents a kiss goodbye. They stood and watched her until she had made it through security and disappeared around the corner towards her gate. Lindsay patiently waited for close to forty-five minutes before she was finally called to board her first flight. Once reaching Minneapolis, she would catch another plan to LaGuardia, where Uncle Freddy was going to meet her. She was expected at the crime lab bright and early the next morning and dreaded having to deal with a time zone change while on her first day at work. She hoped Mac was a little understand, but nothing ever held Lindsay back from doing her job. Gaining two hours definitely wasn't going to inhibit her from making a good first impression on her new coworkers.

Lindsay seated herself next to a window so she could see the wheatfields one last time. It could be a long time before she had the chance to go home again, which meant no wheatfields for at least six months. She already knew she was not going home for the holidays which was disappointing. And because all of her brothers still lived in Montana and her oldest brother Alex already had a family, no one was going to be able to take the trip to her city and visit. It was understandable and reasonable, but it didn't suck any less.

As her small prop plane took off down the runway, she craned her neck to see the quickly disappearing scenery below her. After her eyes scanned the landscape for a few seconds once the plane was airborne, she finally saw acre after acre of wheatfields, growing smaller and smaller as the plane climbed higher into the clouds. She let out a breath she had not even know she was holding and leaned back in her chair. She had a long day of traveling ahead of her.

And on a Tuesday, nonetheless.

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"Is the traffic always this bad on Tuesdays?"

Lindsay turned to look at her uncle as he just shook his head and laughed. "Darlin', this is New York City. The traffic is always like this. If you think this is bad, just wait til you see rush hour on Mondays and Fridays. Now that is traffic you will never see back home, even if every car in the town was on the road. Learn to love the subway hun. Every true New Yorker does."

She turned to look back out her window, stuck in an odd trance as the city lights dragged by outside.

Lindsay was born and raised in Montana, having lived her entire life thus far in her little city of Bozeman. She had told herself that just moving to New York wasn't going to take that away from her. She had no interest in being a 'true New Yorker' as her uncle put it. In her heart, Lindsay knew she would always be a Montana girl. But what if the city did change her? What if she developed a thick accent like she had only heard in movies? She was going to miss her Jeep Wrangler as is, but was she really sacrificing her vehicle for the _subway_? For a brief moment, Lindsay considered battling traffic just to keep her car, but maybe she should take heed to her uncle's advice and at least try weathering the constant rush hour traffic and see how she felt after a week. I mean, if it was like this on a Tuesday, who knew what it was like on actual days of the week?

Before she knew it, the pavement playground they had been driving through began to give way to a quieter part of New York, full of lush green vegetation along the Hudson River. They passed a sign that said _Welcome to Tarrytown _and if Lindsay hadn't been so dead set on Manhattan, she might have considered living here. The entire town looked like a snapshot out of the late 1800s, like a gorgeous painting of a place that no one thought existed. A few of the houses actually had genuine white-picket fences. It was late by the time they arrived and the street lights lit up the roads in the small suburban neighborhoods they were driving through. Not long after the sign, her uncle pulled into a cute community of condominiums.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Monroe. Just so you know, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I know real estate is a fickle thing, especially in the city. I'll give you a quick tour inside but you will pretty much have free reign of the place. Now c'mon, let's get you inside and settled into bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow!" With a quick wink, Freddy picked up her bags and walked inside, Lindsay in tow.

He brought her bags all the way up to his guest room, which was quite larger than Lindsay was expecting. Freddy dropped her bags near the closet and moved back to her doorway, planting his hands on his hips. "Your bathroom is the door down the hall on the right. My bedroom is the door down on the left. Laundry room is downstairs near the garage. Kitchen has food in it, but I don't know if it is anything you take a likin' to. You're welcome to eat anything you may like. The family room is down there too, stocked full of books and movies incase you find some down town. Umm..."

Freddy's voice died off as he glanced up and down the hall, wondering if he left anything out. "Oh! If you noticed you need something, or forgot something, or whatever, let me know. I'm going shopping on Saturday and would be happy to pick anything up for you."

Lindsay nodded in thanks and turn to take in her room once more. Uncle Freddy mumbled a goodbye of sorts and closed her door behind him as he left. She heard him traipse down the hallway towards his own room. His door shut with a heavy _slam_ that made Lindsay jump. A few moments later she could hear the eleven o'clock news coming from his TV. Faintly, she could hear a news reporter going on about a shootout between the NYPD at a crime scene of a known drug lord. She involuntarily shivered at the thought that, a little over twelve hours from now, that was going to be her in the midst of all that action.

With a heavy sigh, she peeled off her clothes and dropped them on a nearby chair, promising to unpack tomorrow. And what was supposed to take only a few seconds turned into a half an hour of picking out what to wear on her first day. Finally having settled on a nice purple blouse and dress pants, she crawled into her bed just as she could hear the sounds of Letterman's opening monologue drifting down the hall.

Tarrytown turned out to be fairly quiet, much like Bozeman, and it wasn't long before Lindsay was asleep.

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Tuesday evening traffic couldn't hold a candle to the traffic of a Wednesday morning. Her Uncle Freddy had decided to take the scenic route to the crime lab this morning, driving the long way into the city while giving Lindsay an impromptu tour, talking about streets and landmarks that meant nothing to her. As the name and locations simmered in her brain, she suddenly became overwhelmed at the thought of having to get around on her own at some point.

She was going to be issued a company vehicle once she arrived, and was looking forward to having a car of her own, kind of. As much as she appreciated her uncle giving her a ride, Lindsay felt bad and did not want to intrude on Freddy's life too much. But the prospect of maneuvering the crowded burroughs on her own was intimidating and suddenly the idea of the subway seemed much less stressful.

Currently, though, the two were literally stopped in traffic. Lindsay was half listening to her uncle ramble on about the nearby shops and places to eat. The roads were filled with taxis and buses packed full of men and women in suits and dress outfits. Most of the people that crowded the sidewalks were dressed casually, peppered with business people. Homeless people could be found on nearly ever corner, panhandling just to get by. Her sympathy went out to them as people bustled by, not giving them the time of day. Even with the gridlock taking over the city, everything flowed together. Crosswalks stuffed full of pedestrians and commuters weaving between stopped cars, vehicles attempting to turn on a red and just jamming up the traffic even worse. The traffic signals all perfectly in sync with one another, allowing a constant flow of town-cars and NYPD vehicles to drive the streets from building to building. All types of cars pulling up and pulling away from curbs, dropping off clients and paying customers or attempting to rejoin the hectic, never-ending flow of New York.

Lindsay was not paying the least bit attention to any of this though, not anymore than the criminalist side of her insisted on observing everything. Her attention was drawn a few blocks up, which was filled with obnoxiously large billboards and lights that were still bright at ten in the morning. Flashing colors and images raced by in front of her eyes, signs mechanically moving back and forth, up and down.

Times Square.

She turned to Uncle Freddy, who was pointing out the hundredth pizza place. Waiting for him to take a breath, she blurted out.

"Drop me off here."

He choked on a word in his throat and spun to look at her.

"You have to get to work soon anyway I'm sure. The crime lab isn't far from here and I could use the walk," she insisted, trying to not bounce in her seat out of excitement.

After looking at her for a moment, Uncle Freddy shrugged. "Ok. Well have a good first day. Call me if that company car thing doesn't work out." The two shared a hug as Lindsay hopped out of his Toyota Hybrid – "Great gas mileage," he claimed – and started walking straight towards Times Square. But as she approached what appeared to be the center of the world, her phone rang.

"Monroe."

_"Yes, this is Julia from the New York Crime Lab. Detective Taylor asked me to call you. He said he needs you to meet him at the Bronx's Zoo."_

The zoo? "Ok. Where, may I ask? I mean, the zoo is a fairly large place from what I – "

Julia cut her off. _"Detective Taylor just said the zoo. I'm sure someone else can help you more once you arrive. Good morning, Detective Monroe, and welcome to New York."_

Before Lindsay had a chance to respond, the receptionist hung up the phone. Lindsay stared at her phone for a minute before shoving it back in her pocket. Her first day in New York and she was going to be spending it investigating a murder at the zoo. It really wasn't what she was expecting, but then again, nothing she had encountered so far in this city was. At this point, Lindsay feared to even enjoy her first Friday or Saturday night off anywhere near this place. She had a feeling it was going to be a while before she dared venturing into this city without a true NYC expert by her side. If she only learned one thing today, it would be that New York was nothing like Bozeman.

And when she said nothing, she meant _nothing_.

Ducking into the nearest set of stairs for the subway, Lindsay dug around in her pocket for some change and boarded a subway train that was just pulling into the station. According to the map – if she even read it right – said she got off four stops away and would end up across the street from the crime lab. Her eyes darted around the train, slowly taking in the other passengers. The other people in her particular train loaded and unloaded in giant masses, squeezing out the sliding doors onto the platforms as more people crammed in, packing the compartment like a small can of sardines. Pushing and shoving and Lindsay tried not to whack the guy standing a few feet away and blatantly checking her out.

Lurching to a stop at her destination, Lindsay had to resist running off the train, patiently waiting as people shoved past her in an attempt to get off before anyone else. She climbed the stairs up to the street, people talking away on their cellphones rushing past her. Crossing the street with a large group of people, Lindsay located the front doors and walked inside.

The New York Crime Lab was a lot nicer than the one she had become accustomed to in Bozeman. First off, the building was easily over forty stories high, filled with an edgy modern decor. Quickly finding the right floor on the nearest directory, Lindsay headed up to the crime lab to obtain her new kit and the keys to a company vehicle. After getting directions from two lab techs and what must have been other CSIs, Lindsay confidently took off for her first crime scene in the new city.

She was just glad it wasn't a Tuesday.


	2. Wednesday

**Author's Note**: This chapter won't be nearly as long as the first one, so I kind of apologize for the length. And yes, the NYPD does have golf carts.

**Disclaimer**: see first chapter

**Spoilers**: Though this chapter takes place right after Lindsay's first day, there a brief mentions of Lindsay's dark past that we learn about in _Sleight Out of Hand_, as well as _Silent Night_.

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The apparent tiger mauling turned into a fairly easy case for Mac, Danny and herself. With all of their current evidence sitting in trace or DNA waiting to be processed, Mac sent his two CSIs home for the evening. It was a late Wednesday night, the sounds of traffic assaulting Lindsay as she exited the crime lab. She stood staring at the employee parking garage, contemplating taking her issued vehicle home with her tonight. After a few moments of thought, she shrugged her shoulders and headed for the subway across the street.

As she waited for the next train, her mind drifted to her first day on the new job. Mac was so much more impressive than she thought he was. Everyone had heard stories; if you really strived to be a great CSI, swapping stories about Mac Taylor was a common occurrence. His former Marine training oozed out from his work ethic, but Lindsay didn't mind in the least. It was nice to find someone who had a bigger drive to do their job well other than herself.

Bozeman was one of those cities where once you moved there, you had a tough time escaping. There is a weird Bermuda Triangle force about small towns like that, towns found scattered all across the nation. The people she grew up with had been living in Bozeman for five generations, easily. Her family had only been there since her great-grandparents had moved from Billings to raise her grandparents. It was odd to find someone in the community who wasn't tied to any member of your family in less than six degrees of separation. In turn, this tight knit community was at ease with each other. That wasn't to say crime didn't happen, but when it did, it wasn't long before someone was arrested. There was a comfort level among the citizens of the community that sometimes challenged the ideal of what a true American suburb was like.

Lindsay had always been a bit of the black sheep among her peers, especially since the horrible tragedy that hit her and Bozeman when she was fourteen. It had taken years of busting her ass to shake off the image she had been branded with. It was understandable that people saw her as the girl who survived, but after ten years of people pitying her, it really got old. She exerted all of her energy into becoming a crime fighting super hero, as her brother's kids would call her. Every day on the job brought a new bout of determination and a refreshed drive to do right by the victims. Topped with having grown up with three older brothers, Lindsay was a forced to be reckon with in every light. She intimidated men in the work place, in the dating scene, even at the few taverns and pool halls scattered across town. Not many people could keep up with Lindsay Monroe.

After diving headlong into her lifetime goal of being a CSI, Lindsay wanted to do great things. And doing great things in her career meant getting out of a small town like Bozeman and making a name for her. She wasn't going to live in Bozeman her entire life as "that girl who survived the diner shooting". She just couldn't. Bigger places and greater opportunities called to her from somewhere else. Her life ambitions of having a fulfilling career – on top of finding her soul mate and traveling the world once she retired, among other things – required her to bust out of her Bozeman Bermuda Triangle.

Her thoughts drifted back to Mac as the subway pulled into her platform and she boarded, sighing with relief at finding how much emptier it was. The streets above were packed with midweek party animals who would not or could not wait until Friday night, and people heading home after a late night at the office.

Lindsay looked forward to working with Mac further. Already today she felt challenged by the man and his extensive knowledge. When he didn't realize it, Lindsay observed him walking through the crime scene. His lips were slightly parted, mumbling mental notes about the scene under his breath as he walked the numbered markers in ascending then descending order. He read through his notes countless times and conferred with herself and Danny frequently, constantly keeping tabs on everything. Without even breaking a sweat, Mac had memorized their current case before the three CSIs left the tiger cage, hands full of evidence.

She would be lying if she denied wanting to be like Mac. Maybe not in all aspects of life, but when it came to him and being a CSI, Lindsay would be him in a heartbeat. His presence demanded your attention, the way he spoke insisted that you listen no matter what he was talking about or how busy you were. Mac's posture made you stand up straight unconsciously but the look in his eyes...it was that look he gave people without even realizing it. It was a look that cried out how many girls he had found dead in the back alleys of New York, covered in bruises and track marks and scarcely dressed in pieces of cloth that could be considered clothes, all indicators of the lives they lead. You could see every dead child's body in his eyes, the innocence ripped from them as the last breath escaped their lungs before their tiny bodies lay still for the rest of eternity, broken and abused and neglected. The men still in their suits and ties found dead in hotel rooms, bullet holes and stab wounds ripping their dress shirts, staining their chests a deep crimson color and soaking the sheets or carpet. Interrogation after interrogation, trial after trial, case after case. It was all in his eyes.

His smile told you though, that, at the end of the day, everything was going to be ok. It didn't matter as to whether the guilty person lay rotting in a cell or not by the time you were done. What did matter was your character, your dedication, your determination and your soul.

By the time Lindsay realized how long she had been sitting in her compartment, her subway had already left her intended station of arrival and was gradually slowing down to stop at the next station. Collecting her jacket, she headed off the train and headed up the stairs. The brisk, cold, September air burnt the tips of her ears as she walked down a few blocks, hands shoved deep in her pockets. She attempted to decipher street signs, but ultimately ended up following the bright orb of light shining from between buildings and the noise of people and car horns.

She strolled down the city blocks, peeking in the windows and shops as she passed. Cars flew past, running yellow and red lights. Saw people jaywalking, screaming obscenities to anyone who dared honk at them. Casually she examined alleyways as she walked by, leading to more dumpsters and backdoors and stoops. Barbed wire fences and a few stray cats. All of what people imagine New York alleys to look like was there in all its glory. Garbage and litter and homeless people and pizza parlors.

As she stood at a cross walk, Times Square in sight, Lindsay thought about Danny Messer. Now there was someone she could not imagine getting along with. He was an intelligent man, no doubt about that. And he was capable of running with the big dogs when it came to his job. Equipped with a brash attitude, a nine millimeter, the strength to back up his laid-back posture and his street smarts, Lindsay could just imagine the trouble he got into, both professionally and personally. His New York attitude just begged people to challenge him so he could kick their ass. Every situation seemed to have room for a dose of Messer sarcasm.

Lindsay silently wondered how many women had lost their pants to the Messer charm.

Internally she scolded herself for even thinking of that ass in such a way. Sure, she understood that the new kid was always teased, but his "sir" joke had not been the least bit funny. In fact, she had been so infuriated earlier when Mac corrected her, telling her not to call him "sir", that Lindsay vowed to herself to never be nice to Danny. For most of today, she had managed to give him the cold shoulder. Maybe next time he considered messing with a country girl, he would know better.

It was hard for her to be too mad of course. Those blue eyes, quirky yet classy glasses, and those raging biceps...

Lindsay rid her mind of the thought as she took the final crosswalk into the middle of Times Square.

Her mind shut itself off as she just stood there, taking it all in slowly with deep breaths and long stares. Slowly turning in a circle in her spot, she read all the billboards. She studied the signs until it had gone through a full cycle, colors changing and spinning and flashing and for a moment, Lindsay was lost in herself.

It had been a long time since Lindsay had last been so lost within herself. Lindsay had made it a personally goal to always feel at ease with her life, her social and professional situations, and in relationships. She hated moments of confusion and uneasiness. For so long, she had been comfortable with herself. Everywhere she went she knew the roads, the stores and the people. Each park filled with childhood memories she cherished. Bozeman had been a stale breeze of familiarity, but one that she loved.

For once, Lindsay was utterly alone. Hundreds of people filled the sidewalks and streets and eateries. The NYPD zooming by on horses and bikes and patrol cars and horses and even _golf carts_, managing the overflow of vehicles on the road and pedestrians everywhere else. It was the most stimulating place she had ever been, and yet Lindsay was completely by herself.

And somehow, her thoughts came back to her cute new colleague. His lazy smile crossed before her eyes, and she let out a long sigh. A man as cute as Danny couldn't be that big of an asshole. He may have been a city boy through and through, but _damn_ would she give him the opportunity to talk off her panties.

Tipping her head up, closing her eyes and raising up her arms toward the black sky, Lindsay took in a deep breath of Times Square.

Wednesday was quickly becoming her favorite day of the week.


End file.
